The Birthday Before Christmas
by Hazelnut
Summary: Thousands of screens lit the streets. Yet he did not know she was among them, just as she did not know he was among the ones watching them. It was virtually impossible to find each other, but miracles do happen on this snowy night... [RyoSaku]
1. The Birthday Before Christmas

Millions of screens lined the streets, the bursts of colours illuminating the faces of pedestrians as they hurried past the heavily decorated windows and draped doors. Leather boots and heels splashed through the puddles of slushy snow, gradually turning the milky liquid into a grey mixture of mud and dust. The road was filled with rows of vehicles as their noisy horns pierced the freezing night air and drilled into the joyful chatters of shoppers, who were mostly admiring the luxurious Christmas ornaments in the shop displays. A gigantic Christmas tree stood in a triangular garden in the center of the road, its complex network of branches towered over the bustling city, its thick leaves sheltered pairs of lovers as they treasured the moments of secrecy under the dim shadows, away from attention.

Darkening indigo stained the sky. Clouds were gathering... another snowfall was not far away.

Behind a gleaming pane of glass, countless mini teddy bears floated on a sea of pale blue silk; each of which had a piece of glittering golden string encircling its neck. Their beady eyes had a touch of innocence to them, an innocence perfectly matched with a painted background of a wooden hut - more precisely, the interior of a hut - with a fire crackling in the hearth of a brick fireplace. There was even a small wooden table slightly raised above the sea of bears, with platefuls of exquisite delicacies carefully shaped out of play dough and a vast amount of patience.

The delightful display was lit by a warm golden hue that spilled down from three glowing light bulbs, forming a great contrast with the pair of cold golden eyes reflected in the glass window.

His heart was icy, as was his expression. A thick checked scarf hang limply around his neck; almost blown off by the strong gusts of howling wind, yet the boy's hands remained in the pockets of his coat. The temperature was dropping, but apart from his frozen cheeks and strands of messy green hair dotted with snow, Echizen Ryoma took no notice of the weather. Silently, he gazed into the shop display until he was almost certain his nose had literally frozen into ice, and that his jaws would shatter if he tried to move it.

No one took notice of him as they hurried past to finish their Christmas shopping so that they could begin their long-awaited feasts, bite into their steaming turkeys, and chat heartily with their friends; therefore, of course, no one saw the trace of loneliness in the cool pools of amber.

_Loneliness?_

Ryoma shut his eyes and felt minute shards of ice crumble and slip down from his lashes. Yes, although he had never anticipated that he would care about the loneliness of being a professional tennis player. He had expected to be seen, and only seen, as a tennis prodigy, a determined contestant, a man who followed in his father's footsteps and devoted his whole life to this particular sport. He had know the bitterness and pain that comes with fame and popularity, yet he had chosen this path because he came to realize the importance of his talent - more important than anything else.

But now is the night of his birthday, and he has not received a single congratulation. Of course, he does not blame the pedestrians - and possibly fans - rushing past him to reach their loved ones... they have people who they treasure far more than a mere tennis star on TV. Yet when his manager and friends left him last evening to return to their families, all he heard were Christmas blessings... Christmas, a day celebrated and known by the world...rather than his birthday, a personal but most significant day for a human being.

The fact hit him, hard. He has no one. No one who would put his birthday before Christmas, no one who would comfort him for living through another year of his life, but rather wish him a happiness on a day which he has no one to celebrate with. Family had become a nightmare to him long ago, the pressure from his parents regarding his profession became unbearable, which was partly the reason why he flew back to Japan on the day of Christmas Eve, on the day of his birthday, despite the fact that his family had settled in America and were probably expecting him to return with piles of presents, mountains of cash, and a girl in each arm.

..._partly_ the reason.

Ryoma frowned and gently shook his head from side to side to rid of the snow in his tangled hair. He came back to Japan simply as an escape, nothing more. However... the desperate desire to come back felt far more than a need to escape. _Why...?_ Stiffly, he tramped through the layer of whiteness towards the next display window.

This one was clearly aiming for a more sophisticated look. Glittering white paint was sprayed into snowflake patterns of various sizes on the glass, gently fogging up the magnificent artwork of a frozen lake hidden deep within a pine forest. There were blobs of black paint - presumably people - dotting the barrier of the ice, reminding the viewer about the warmth of people and company despite this freezing season. But what would most likely take the viewer's breath away was the sheet of fake snow drifting down from four swinging sprinklers installed in the inside of the glass, coating the bottom of the display with a thick layer of silver fluff.

Ryoma spotted the masses of tiny fingerprints pressed onto the glass, and smirked. As long as he could recall, he was never excited about anything other than tennis. Never did he press his nose onto the shop windows longing for a Superman figurine, nor did he point excitedly at a Christmas tree squealing with happiness at the sight of a Santa ornament. Always, he has been cold and emotionless, especially so towards the media and those damned reporters. He hated their habit of dragging him along the street, deafening him with screams of questions and blinding him with camera flashes... oh, and of course their passion for making up foolish rumors about dates with stylish models or actresses.

_What the hell am I doing here? Nearly everyone is celebrating with their families yet, here I am, out on the streets of Japan feeling sorry for myself and blaming others for forgetting a day which I've never even talked about? Am I going back in time to think in a five-year-old's logic? _A sigh escaped his lips as he slowly turned around towards the direction of his hotel.

The strength of the wind was growing, his heavy coat flapped madly as he drew out his gloved hands to warm them by holding the wool to his mouth. The cold was like sharp blades whipping and slashing at his cheeks, cruel and merciless, like a punishment for his attitude towards others. Ryoma adjusted his scarf but, all of a sudden, paused. He had sensed a slight disruption in the crying wind, a change in the air frequency. There was a buzz, an unnoticeable vibration buried under the loud noises of the streets. Nevertheless, Ryoma's well-trained ears pricked up at this difference in tone. Amber eyes sharpening, he listened once again...

_Again!_ Ryoma's hands froze in midair as he picked out a note... a long musical note with a lower pitch. He took a few more steps forward, then focused to block out all unnecessary sounds as he shut his eyes and waited. _Why do I care about a random sound on the street!? There are thousands of them!_ His heart was screaming in confusion, yet he ignored it. For too long, everything had been what he had expected them to be, to experience something he wasn't at all anticipating would be just what he needed.

This time a sharper note, shorter, but louder... His eyes sprang open and he sprinted in the direction of the music. Although stumbling a little due to the stiffness of his legs, he continued searching for the source of the sound waves, his eyes darting from window to window, glass to glass. Colours became a blur as he ran blindly down the concrete path, the volume of the music continued to increase, the notes were becoming faster, closer together, more dramatic-

Panting slightly, he skidded to a stop in front of an electronics store, its display window was no where near as breathtaking as the two he had seen before, yet it made his eyes widen, and drew him closer to the glass as well as the rows of television behind it. Pressing one of his wool-clad hands to the window, Ryoma leaned in, so close that his breathes formed white oval bubbles on the glass panes.

On the screens, the twenty screens of various qualities and colours, was a girl playing a gleaming black clarinet. Shimmering hazel hair plaited into two braids and pinned into side buns below her ear, a twinkling diamond clip holding part of her fringe from her large chocolaty eyes. Ryoma squinted at the image of her, made up of zillions of coloured dots as many as the flakes in the sky. _...Have I seen her somewhere before? Why does she seem... oddly familiar? And somehow I feel that I _should _remember her..._ Her face was pale, yet this brought out the blush on her cheeks and emphasized the soft smile in the corner of her lips as she blew into the instrument. Fingers flying over the keys, pressing, releasing, shifting positions... each change created a tone so sweet and moving it seemed to reflect the deep emotions of the clarinetist as she performed a piece of her heart.

As the last note died, Ryoma seemed to snap out of a trance. His eyes cooled and he straightened up, yet he stayed in front of the screens, watching the girl, listening to her words, hoping for more. However, when the face of the girl finally clicked in, when the sound of her soft voice finally triggered a part of his memory, it became, suddenly, more than that.

_...Ryuzaki?_ He stared at the name at the bottom of the screen in disbelief, in doubt. At that moment, he simply became "a boy", and her "a girl"... not a famous tennis player or musician, but two individuals who reunited after a separation of nine years. The boy clenched his fist..._ This is certainly... something I wasn't expecting_. Alarmed, he sensed a growing desire to smile. His eyes shifted to an antique television and watched silently as her brown eyes became inky black, and her skin became ghostly pale.

"Miss Ryuzaki... what a _breathtaking_ performance! You should've auditioned for this show way earlier!" A beaming male host strolled to her side as a thunderous applause showered the stage.

"Well... I don't think it would've been as special for me had it been any year other than this, to be honest." An earnest reply, so like Ryuzaki. Ryoma had always wondered about her honesty... can anyone's be as pure and innocent? As spotless and blinding as the diamond necklace catching the light and was now shimmering at her throat?

"Oh? And why is that?" The host's eyes widened with interest as he leaned in nosily with the microphone. His obvious greed for gossip dripped sickeningly from the corners of his dark eyes. Sakuno's long eyelashes lowered a fraction.

"I-It's rather personal...sorry." A faint pink blossomed in her cheeks as she bowed her head in embarrassment. The host laughed in response.

"That's quite all right, Miss! I shall force an answer out of you after the show!" The host joked cheerily and winked at the screen. Ryoma scowled. "Unfortunately, our marvelous evening is drawing to an end... Can I assume that we will finish off with the traditional Christmas medley?"

"Of course, but...uh, if you don't mind, can I... play a special piece before that? It's very short." Ryuzaki's pleading eyes shimmered with hope; Ryoma's eyebrow twitched as he fought to hold back a smile.

"And if you may inform us what piece that will be?"

"It's a variation of 'Happy Birthday"... I composed this for a friend, it's his 21st today." A definite blush coloured her face as she tightened her grip on her clarinet. Pure beauty radiated out from her mature features as she lifted her long lashes to the camera and smiled. A sad smile that wrenched not only Ryoma's heart, but also, most likely, every single viewer of this Christmas program. "I know he won't have a chance to watch this, he may never even know about this, I don't expect him to at all... But, even so, I congratulate you on this day, and wish you luck in your next match...Ryoma-kun."

Ryoma's eyes snapped up and, at last, its iciness crumpled. His expression, originally emotionless, now seemed awkward, as if he had not decided on which feeling to show. A sharp inhale left a dull pain in his chest, which was already throbbing with hundreds of emotions that had been repressed for too long, and were on the verge of spilling out all at once. All because she, of all people, granted his wish when he most wanted it. As always, she was there to support him, to congratulate him, to remember him in spite of his coldness... she was the only one willing to answer his pathetic need for someone to "put his birthday before Christmas", and she will perhaps remain the only one.

The jazzy notes of her composition wafted around him, enfolding his body in a casket of warmth. Slowly, his lips softened into a smile... _Perhaps I was scared in the first place... scared that even someone like her would forget me. Then I would have no one. No one at all..._

Is it too late for him to realize that now? Ryoma gazed at her for a few more moments, seeing her body sway gently to the rhythm and her eyes close as she indulged in the world of music. Quietly, a tear rolled down her cheek, leaving behind a sparkling trail of moisture. Just as quietly, Ryoma frowned and rubbed away the liquid blurring his vision.

_Who cares if it's too late? I need to see her._

_...I want to see her._

A thrill shot through his body and he felt his nerves tingle with desire. At once, he ripped his eyes from the screens and paced towards the queue of waiting taxis; some of which were honking desperately at pedestrians who looked suspiciously lost, some of which were parked silently in the shadow, hoping for travelers who would prefer to avoid competition. It didn't matter which one he chose, as long as it can take him to her. He walked up to a scratched yellow vehicle near the end of the line and saw its driver dozing off on his leather seat; his cheek pressed against the rim of the steering wheel; rhythmic snores sounded from his drooping mouth.

Impatiently he tapped the glass window with his fingers, yet just as the man snapped out of his slumber, his passenger was yanked backwards by a strong hand painfully gripping his arm. He winced but had no time to complain before he was dragged into a circle of reporters and cameras. Once again, the rapid flashes of lightning and the thunderous roars of excitement from the journalists swallowed him whole. He has only managed to escape for a day, and then he was found again. Found by these sad souls whose best Christmas present would be a single complete sentence from Echizen Ryoma's lips.

Sighing, he simply glared at the six faces shoving questions into his face and notepads in hand. It wasn't that he didn't expect this... but the timing was overly impeccable. Slowly, he looked at one video camera with a cold smirk. _Both of us are being filmed... but under totally different conditions. I found her through the media, and she used the media to find me. Even though the media is now separating us... isn't it also what linked us together in the first place?_

He smiled as an idea occurred to him. The group of reporters hushed and looked at him with eyes shimmering with hope; creepily resembling a circle of puppies begging for a scrap of meat.

"I'll borrow this for a second." He grabbed a microphone from a reporter and spoke clearly into the camera, his voice firm and quietly persistent. "Ryuzaki, if you can hear me now - no, you must be able to hear me - I need you to do me a favour."

It sounded more like an order than a request.

"Repay the first Ponta I bought you." _Meet me... at the place where I first bought you Ponta. _He didn't want to be too direct, in fear of being ambushed by a horde of reporters at the tennis courts... or being followed _and then_ ambushed.

The snow was falling faster, pouring down like thick cream on a Christmas fruitcake. Tiny snowflakes dove into his hair and sprinkled his jacket with white dust.

"...Please."

The shade of his golden eyes dimmed, and he abruptly paused after sensing a quiver in his own voice. Although he was a little triumphant to see the devastated reporters who were frozen with shock; their faces were as blank as the sheet of shredded ice embedding their feet. No doubt their brains were busily calculating the profit they can make if they publish this on the front page of their magazines tomorrow. Shoving the microphone back into the hands of the gaping reporter, Ryoma squeezed past the speechless men with a soft murmur of thanks.

Never in his life had he expected to find the media useful... but on the night of his twenty-first birthday, nothing could be expected anymore.

* * *

**A/N**: Hehe…f-finally finished…(exhausted laugh) I proudly present to you my first creation of a Christmas Special, which severely lacks Sakuno. (sweat) To be honest, I wasn't going to make this idea into a Christmas fic, but somehow it just developed this way. Also I apologize for the extremely abstract message Ryoma gave to Sakuno… my brain hasn't been very bright these days. (haha, I've used up all my brain cells for the exams) Let us just believe that Sakuno still knows Ryoma well enough to comprehend his logic. 

As you can see, this story has absolutely nothing to do with "The Nightmare Before Christmas"… but this title seemed suitable, so it became the winning choice out of a long list of cheesy cliché names. In my opinion, choosing the title can be both the most difficult and the most exciting part about writing a fanfiction. :)

One more thing... (yeah, this is one freakin long A/N) Sorry about posting this up so late... my internet has been breaking down every few moments lately, so I wasn't able to post it up before it was completely fixed (which is today)... so forgive me if this ruins the mood a little.

Most importantly, enjoy the story and I wish a Merry (belated) Christmas to you all! (Someone should really mourn for all the turkeys being eaten out there…)


	2. The New Year After Christmas

She never came.

Echizen Ryoma gritted his teeth as he heated his fingers on the metal heater; despite the gloves, they were numb and swollen beyond recognition. Rubbing the skins together in desperate desire for warmth, he leaned back to rest his head on the foot of his bed. The floral scent of the hotel sheets wafted around him, and he closed his eyes to reflect on the night's events.

It may sound cruel, but he only remembered her because of her performance tonight; the thought of her never occurred to him during his glorious days and countless victories over the world's top tennis players. He did not care the slightest about fans or supporters - he never lacked them. Hence he only realized this emptiness when he found his e-mail inbox exploding with Christmas e-cards and letters wishing him a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, or even extremely early requests for Valentine dinners... and nothing for his birthday. His **21st** birthday.

And then he realized that he has no fans.

Ryoma frowned and stood up to stretch his legs; stiff from the long wait for what he thought to be his one _true _fan... although he wasn't so sure now, if she cared then why didn't she turn up? He had sat there, in front of the vending machine for two hours, and not a single shadow escaped his sight. Yet there was no sign of her, not a sound in the park, only the soft glows from the twinkling stars falling upon him, rolling down onto the ground like tiny jewels of diamond.

It had been freezing, he had thought his jaw would splinter from the piercing wind. But he hadn't taken much notice at first, his heart had been so overflowed with warmth from her words that even the biting temperture could not wipe the smirk off his face. Time, however, was merciless. As seconds ticked by, his face began to coat over with ice, and his emotions were once again frozen. He had thought that finally she would be there when he most needed support, at last there would be someone who could pull him out of the darkness trapping him and hiding him from anything but tennis, yet she failed.

_Perhaps she knows someone else called "Ryoma" and the piece was meant for him?_

The boy shook his head, the tea bag in his hand quivered slightly as he dropped it into the gleaming china cup. No... even an idiot would know that it is unlikely, if not impossible. More realistically, she would have had the courage to say it only because she knew he wouldn't be there, and when she found out that he _had_ been watching, the courage left her and she backed out of his invitation.

_She did not mean it. The speech, the composition, the expressions, everything was false... done only to show her talent and her stupid tragic love story._

The hand holding the teaspoon tightened and the tips of his fingers grew pale. Anger swept over his mind, nibbling away the remaining warmth and comfort the girl had brought him, instantaniously. It left him with a strange sense of loss, which he ignored and filled up with a single gulp of Earl Grey. The steaming liquid scorched his throat painfully, he coughed.

_I was just fooling myself, wasn't I? Who would've thought that... the famous Echizen Ryoma... would be used by a young woman?_

A bitter smile twisted his lips as he collapsed onto the silky feather duvet. With his throat still burning, the boy fell back into the darkness where the glimmer of light had appeared, vanished, and its foggy illusion had begun to fade into nothingness.

--

_Crack._

A quiet groan escaped his lips as Ryoma sat up and massaged his neck. _Ow..._ The boy stared into the spotless mirror directly in front of the bed, his eyes glazed with sleep as he failed at an attempt to smooth down his emerald green hair springing up like tiny twigs behind his skull. Squinting into the golden waterfall tumbling through the unshaded windows, he swung one leg over the edge of the mattress and did a small whimper... the muscles were even more stiff than last night; a dull pain pulsed through his ankle like a jolt of electricity. _**Never **__will I sit still for two hours again._ A frustrated frown creased his forehead as he pulled on a sweater over his wrinkled T-shirt.

Limping over to the electric water jug, he flicked on its switch and waited for the preparation of his morning coffee, just as memories gradually seeped through the thick fog of exhaustion. _Last night... something happened last night...oh...Ryuzaki... I found her. _He reached up to rub his eyes. ..._And then I lost her. _Sighing, his fingers closed around a glass of cool water and turned it upside-down, the contents splashed over his head and ran down his neck. It was refreshing, and helped to flatten his hair as well as clear up his brain. Liquid trickled off his chin and onto the expensive carpet, yet he made no move to wipe it up.

He was tired, so tired that he just wanted to curl up and sulk. Yet he resisted the urge to do so and slid down onto the floor instead. Resting the back of his head against the waxed wood of the wardrobe, he closed his eyes. _This is pathetic... who cares!? Who __**cares**__ about a __**girl**__? There are thousands in the world to choose from...! _But there seemed to be a disconnection between his mind and his heart, for he found his spirit still weighing down upon him, crushing his insides as he buried his face into his arms. Water continued to drip from his fringe. The roar of the eletric jug increased in volume, spitting bursts of water vapour from the mouthpiece until a small 'click' calmed the sizzling heat and silenced the deafening hiss.

Feeling so weak that he could barely stand up, he grabbed the wardrobe knob to hurl himself upright, but not without bumping his forehead into the opening wardrobe door. He cursed. _What is wrong with me today!?_

He took a small sip of the rich liquid, but almost immediately spat it out; it tasted oddly sour on his tongue. Ryoma scowled as the coffee swished around in his mouth like mouth-washing liquid, and finally swarmed down his oesophagus. But at that instant, a violent series of coughs squeezed his chest tight as he sensed a burning pain in his throat. The sweater deformed into a bundle of wool in his fist as he gripped his throbbing chest...

_Tap, tap._

_Crap. _Ryoma shot a glance at the door and caught a waver of shadow underneath the crack. Swiftly, he dropped the cup down onto the saucer with a loud clatter, shoved the whole thing further onto the counter and out of the way, then yanked the door open, expecting to see one of the old ladies delivering his breakfast for him at nine o'clock-

Except that she was very far from being old.

A pair of tired liquid brown eyes stared up at him, a small, nervous smile curling her lips. Her hair was the same as last night, two plaited buns below her ears, but the diamond clip has been replaced by a simple hairpin obviously hastily put in place - there were strands of hair which had been overlooked and was hanging loosely by her rosy cheeks. Ryoma's heart couldn't help but clench at the sight of her, at the sight of Ryuzaki Sakuno who had been the cause for his cold today. He touched his neck subconsciously - his throat felt swollen and feverish, no doubt his voice would be ruined as well.

"Uh... good morning, Ryoma-kun." She blushed slightly at his casual wear, and clutched at her own woollen skirt with both hands.

He did not repond, merely stared back at her with those cold hollow eyes as he would at a statue.

"I got your message last night, thank you."

"...you didn't come." The amber eyes darkened as he leaned against the door frame. His voice was quiet but cold as steel.

"...I did! But _you_ never turned up." She frowned and gazed up at him, as if searching his face for a reason. Her deep questioning eyes made him look away with unease as he scowled and replied:

"_I_ never turned up!? What, you think I got this cold for being cosy and warm in this puny little hotel room??" Beginning to croak, he coughed again but only seemed to make the itch in his throat more unbearable.

Sakuno studied his face closely and saw the frown between his brows as he swallowed. Her expression softened as she reached out to test his forehead, yet he brushed her hand away with an icy "Don't touch me."

"...I don't know why we didn't see each other, but I did go there, to the tennis courts." She said quietly, and her hand dropped to her sides. Ryoma noticed the hurt look in the chocolatey pools but was too angry to care.

"You don't believe that I went? I was the one who asked you to go, for Goodness sake!" His knuckles paled as he pressed against the door frame. A storm raged within his mind, blinding him from all logic. This has gone beyond the matter of his pride, but rather the emotional wound left to scar in his memory from the first betrayal of a girl. A girl who had revived his hope for life and then completely diminished it.

"I didn't say..." She was almost on the verge of tears. Gripping the leather handles of her handbag, she lowered her head to hide the moisture glistening in her under her lashes.

Time froze as silence encircled the corridor. There was a creak of a floor board, and then dead silence once again. Ryoma peered down at the top of the girl's head, his mind was blank, yet filled with countless emotions at the same time. Resentment, hope, gladness, relief, anger, tore his heart into microscopic pieces. But still he had not the faintest idea what to do. Should he blame her, yell at her, scream dirty words at her face? Or should he hug her, whisper to her, pour his heart out over her shoulders? His mind was in a muddle, a blurry whirlpool of confusion.

Just a few moments ago, he would have had no hesitations, the blame would have been all hers. Yet the instant he saw her face, he knew he couldn't do so. Despite his raging temper, his bursting frustration, her gentle eyes easily, and annoyingly, smoothed over his hatred.

But there was still some anger left within him, for Ryoma was not one to accept defeat so soon. Stubbornly, he straightened and waved her away with one hand.

"Go, we've nothing else to say." He turned his back to her, so that the sight of her would not boost his desire to give in and hold her. Therefore, of course, he did not see her quiver and her eyes lift and widen with shock. There was another pause.

"But we need to figure out why even though we both went-"

"Who knows if you just _said _so? Don't worry, I don't blame you... anyone who would've gone out to that damn tennis court in the middle of Christmas Eve would've been crazy..." He smirked coldly, and clicked the door shut behind him.

Yet neither left the door for the next half hour.

One leaned on the inside with a bitter smirk on his lips, brows locked together in a frown, and feeling regret and anger tearing his heart in half as he thumped the carpeted floor with his fist in frustration. While the other crouched in the hallway and sobbed silently into her knees, shedding tears of bitterness for the misunderstanding and the lack of trust he feels for her.

Merely a day ago, neither would have expected the happiness of reunion between them could be forgotten, and be replaced with an endless cycle of tears, loss, and loneliness.

--

Shivering, Sakuno wrapped the fur tighter around her kimono. The layers of silk felt almost liquidy against her skin, yet the obi securing the folds around her waist was so tight that she could hardly breath in spite of the towels cushioning her stomach. She picked the pattern personally, as she loved the scarlet background which resembled a pool of red wine with pink cherry blossom petals gliding along its shimmering surface. The gold trims were luxurious yet elegant, and she very much admired the soft glows they make as she strolls in the full-scale kimono under the sunlight.

The showers of golden sun is always the warmest on the first day of a year, as if promising a brilliant yearful of richness and joy. Sakuno tilted her face upwards, towards the sun, as she waited in the queue of people waiting for their chance to show their respect for the Gods and make their wishes known at the historical shrines around the country. The row of excited faces snaked through the quad and down the long stony staircase, most of them laughing or flirting with another as the new year symbolized a significant marking for their relationships.

Yet she was alone, like always.

Sakuno smiled bitterly at the remembrance of an unexpected misunderstanding a week ago. Finally, she thought she had found the boy who she has never been able to forget. Finally, she thought the realisation of his importance in her heart a few years ago would be rewarded. They were close, so close to being reunited... yet the lack of trust between them stole away the chance for a proper explanation for the night's events to be made.

_He does not trust me_. Sakuno frowned as she felt tears stinging and threatening to fall from her eyes. Stubbournly, she wiped it away. Tears on the first day of the year are considered a sin... since most people believe that it would set the fortune for the year.

The queue was moving at an agonisingly slow speed. The heavy garments of the kimono was beginning to strain her shoulders as she stood silently behind a pair of lovers whispering shyly into each other's ears. However, all of a sudden, the girl's expression darkened at the words of the boy, and she slapped him across the cheek, hard. The boy stared back at her, speechless, as she trembled with anger and muttered something in such a low voice that even Sakuno could not capture the words. The young boy retorted something, to which the girl became even more annoyed and finally stomped off leaving the boy awkwardly frozen on the spot.

_The lack of trust..._ Sakuno's heart pounded as she registered a thought in her brain. An idea which is does not seem impossible... if not extremely possible.

_Maybe... he does not trust __**anyone**__...?_

_Perhaps it's not just me who he shows no trust in?_

As she chewed over this theory more and more, the ripples in her heart calmed fraction by fraction. Of course there is the possibility that she was thinking too much, and that this is not the case at all. But somehow it provided her with the comfort and peace which she has not been able to possess for the past week.

Her frown ceased a little as she stepped forward to shake the thick rope, drop a couple of bronze coins into the offeratory box, and clapped her hands to make her wish. Lowering her head and closing her eyes, Sakuno forced the image of the boy aside.

_I wish safety and health will remain with my grandma this year, and that all my friends will be happy and well... also I wish the best of luck for Ryoma-kun's matches-_

"I wish safety and health will remain with my grandma this year, and that all my friends will be happy and well."

The voice interrupting her wishes made her look up in surprise, not so much at the fact the wish was the exact replica of hers, but the fact that someone said their wishes aloud, as if purposefully shouting for someone's attention...

She froze.

The pair of golden eyes bore into hers like a stream of honey trickling into a pool of chocolate. Sakuno could feel blood drain from her face and cold sweat breaking out over her back as the boy in front of her looked away. The next instant saw her being pulled away from the platform where hunderds of people were watching, down the long flight of stairs, weaving through groups of chatting adults and children, and onto the streets.

When she finally regained the ability of speech, Ryoma had dragged her two streets away and seemed to have no intention to stop. She ripped her arm from his grip and skidded to a stop, glaring at his face as he turned around in slight surprise.

"R-Ryoma-kun! What are you doing here!?" She was still breathless from the run, and did not attempt to hide the confusion and frustration in her voice.

Ryoma looked at her in silence, until she grew so uncomfortable of his attention that she began smoothing out her kimono and flattening her hair. Yet when he did actually speak, she wished he hadn't at all.

"You got lost that night, didn't you?" His voice was still husky from the cold, yet it contained the familiar tone of coolness and demand.

"..." Not replying, she looked away. But the faint blush on her cheeks confirmed it all. "You didn't let me explain..."

Ryoma looked at her in silence. His expression was serious, yet the iciness has melted away.

She laughed drily and changed the subject. "Why are you still here?? Don't you need to go back to the US?"

He shrugged. "Don't you want me here?"

Shaking her head, she denied hurriedly. "Of course I want you here... I mean, it's none of my business anyway..." Her face warmed with embarrassment.

"I think it is your business." A flash of mischief glinted in his eyes. "I was planning to leave on Boxing Day, but _you_ ruined my plan. I couldn't leave... without making up with you."

"How did you know I got lost?" She asked curiously.

"... I just thought you wouldn't be the kind of person to lie to me, when you said you _were_ there."

Her heart leapt as she sensed his trust in her. A faint smile warmed her features.

"...How should I make up for ruining your busy schedule then, Echizen-san?"

"... Just stay by my side for today, that will be enough." A low mumble that would easily be missed had she not strained her ears and read his lips.

A cool breeze swept past them, scooping up a handful of early blossoms and spraying the petals upon the deserted street. The shower of snowy white buds drew his amber eyes towards the sky, just as he felt a soft silky hand slip into his. He coughed.

"You still have the cold, don't you?" Sakuno asked by his shoulder, her voice wavering with worry.

"... It's no big deal."

"... I'm sorry for making you wait."

Ryoma smiled.

_You have no idea how painful this week has been... knowing you are somewhere out there but unable to give up my pride._

He shifted his eyes to her face, watching her deep hazel eyes shimmer with admiration as she held out the other hand to catch the scattering petals.

_I know if I don't find you this time, I'll never be able to have you... that's why I couldn't leave._

_That's when I realized..._

His rough fingers curled gently around her slender ones.

"Can't do anything about it now, can I?"

..._I can't do anything about loving you._

_--_

**A/N: **Well, as some people requested, I have written a fluffy sequel to go with "The Birthday Before Christmas"... sorry if it seems a bit rushed, but I did only decide to write this after I posted the other one up, so the ideas are probably not as strong. Anyway, I hope this satisfies the wishes of most people, inform me about your opinions nevertheless, and I wish a Happy New Year to you all!

Oh, and I forgot to mention in the story about how Ryoma knew Sakuno was at the shrine... I was going to put it in but could not find anywhere suitable, so just let it pass... :P


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